Kill Will
by TheMuleteer
Summary: Post AWE, VERY AU. Elizabeth & Jack's wedding is attacked and ruined. Escaping death, Elizabeth swears revenge on her attackers, and she'll Kill Will. Loosely based on 'Kill Bill'. Retrospective Sparrabeth. Gets rather violent at times, so be warned. R&R.
1. Prologue

Kill Will

Volume 1

* * *

"Do you find this cruel?"

She couldn't see who had spoken those words, but she knew. Despite her swollen eyelids, she recognized the words. Although her eyes were battered, she knew his voice.

She could not speak; the reason why not could vary wildly. It could have been her smashed jaw, destroyed from countless, merciless blows that were passionately dealt out; or her bruised neck, tortured to the point of agony from scores of vicious jabs to her throat; or her choked airways, ravaged with horrible vitreous fluids slipping from her brutalized mouth and drenched in blood that trickled down her tormented throat.

But for whatever reason, be it shattered bone, injured chords or blood-soaked lungs, she didn't respond to his question.

"Because it seems to me," she felt the floor bend slightly as he descended to her side, that you know me so well," he continued as he looked at her with a gaze so penetrating that she could simply feel it, lying on the floor, beaten to within an inch of her life, "you must understand that I am never cruel."

"I couldn't be," he added, wiping some of her blood away from her chin with a kerchief he'd drawn from his pocket, "not with you." The blood was slowly replaced with more leaking from her ruined nose. On its way down, it mixed with tears descending more rapidly from her bloodshot eyes.

"No," he rose, "this is me," he turned, "at my most," she faintly heard the familiar sound of steel rasping against leather, "vengeful."

"Will," she finally managed to murmur, "it's..."

They were her last words before he viciously lashed the blade across her neck in a fluid motion, severing her carotid artery.


	2. Chapter 1:

Chapter 1:

* * *

"Mary, Mother of God, what the blazes happened here?"

"Something horrible," one of the other four men remarked.

"Whatever and whoever it was, Gibbs, it wasn't a bunch of amateurs," Marty said from Gibbs' hip as the two pirates and three other comrades surveyed the carnage of the chapel in Port Royal.

"Well, they were pretty quick with most of the victims," Gibbs noted. Indeed, it seemed they were; the two women, Giselle and Scarlett; the two men, Pintel and Ragetti; and the minister, whom none of them recognized; all five were dead with simple shots through the heart and head. "They had some civility to them."

"And a lot of hatred for old Jack, it looks like," Marty remarked. They could tell, from the ribbons of blood-soaked cloth, the bloodstained walls, and the rust-coloured cutlasses that they had been brutal, if quick, with their old captain. They even had the civility, if it could be called that, to remove what was most likely a ruined body from this church.

"But poor miss Elizabeth..." Gibbs trailed off.

"What she could have done to ever deserve this..." Marty ended prematurely as well; neither of them could ever contemplate Elizabeth doing anything to deserve what had been done to her...or who could be capable of it.

They honestly could only tell that the sixth body was Elizabeth's by the dress and the ring adorning her left hand that had belonged to Jack. Her frame was so smashed and beaten that the two men sincerely hoped she had died immediately from the slash to the neck, and that her attackers merely continued to desecrate her corpse out of spite, because they genuinely felt horror and not a little nausea at the idea of someone suffering through such extensive torture before being helplessly murdered.

Gibbs knelt beside her mangled body. "They haven't been gone long, either," he noted, eyeing the fatal wound. "The cut is still bleeding."

The exact moment that he finished speaking, he saw what would mark Joshamee Gibbs a deeply religious man to the end of his days.

She had lost inconceivable amounts of blood. Her body was broken and mangled. Her former strength and formidability were vanished from the miserable mass of ruined flesh, spilt blood and broken bone that lay before Gibbs.

Yet her eyes opened, and she moaned softly.

"Marty! Fetch bandages! She's still alive!" Gibbs yelled orders as he hurriedly shredded part of her already tattered wedding dress and pressed the fabric against the neck wound. He whispered to her, "It's alright, Miss Elizabeth, you're safe now; we'll get you home." Raising his voice once more, as Elizabeth faded back into merciful oblivion, he hollered with the force of a hurricane gale, "GET ME SOME SODDING BANDAGES!!!"

* * *

-KW-

* * *

In deep sleep, there is a land of nothing.

This nothing is called 'dreams'.

Dreams are visions the human subconscious grants the slumbering brain; odd compilations of memory, hope and imagination.

Then there are nightmares.

Nightmares are indescribable in the horror they are able to present to the trapped mind. They can engender the most terrifying fear, enliven the greatest horror, or perhaps worst of all, relive the harshest memory.

* * *

-KW-

* * *

Abruptly, from the nightmares of memory, Elizabeth Swann awoke.

It was not the jolt of awareness that some experience. It was not either the slow ascent into reality that others can enjoy.

It was the cruel awakening of first seeing the unopened eye—utmost dark.

Then came the slow, daunting task of opening two heavily resistant eyelids.

Then the realization that she was home—in her bed, in the Captain's Cabin of the _Black Pearl_, floating safely in the dock of Port Royal.

Then, crashing in on her peace came the final memory that her nightmares had not replayed.

The image of her lover, her fiancée, her Captain Jack Sparrow being run through by a man he believed to be his best friend.

She was jolted from any form of reminiscence on the scene by the entry of her old acquaintance and friend, bearing the gift of a tray of food.

"Miss Elizabeth," there was no hiding the relief in Gibbs' voice, "you're awake."

She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came forth.

He was by her in an instant. "Here," he offered a drink—from the look of it, water. "I'd imagine after such a long sleep."

Gratefully, she drank the water slowly, allowing its cool brush to caress the inside of her mouth, experimenting with her mouth muscles to swish it about, moistening her tongue, before hesitantly swallowing. Though it played over a few sore spots, the water made a gratifying descent into her empty stomach.

Then, after another try, she spoke, "Thank you." Her voice was hoarse, but she did not dare clear her throat—not yet, at least. "How long..."

"Two months," Gibbs imparted. "We were beginning to worry. Some believed you would never wake up." He wisely kept the fact that he may very well have joined their number after today from her.

"Two months..." she breathed. Cautiously, she very gently moved every part of her body. She could feel where the blows and stabs had struck her, yet there was no pain. Save for some impudent sluggishness and stiffness, her limbs were at her beck and call. She very slowly raised a hand to her neck, a finger tracing a line that followed a slight indent in her skin that she could barely detect. Yet she knew the path it followed; the heated path of betrayal is a difficult one to forget. "I should have died."

"You very nearly did, too," he stated honestly. "Had you not indicated to me that you were still somewhat alive, we would have left you for dead, too."

Her mind returned to that day. "The others...the minister...our witnesses...?"

He only shook his head.

She was terrified of the answer, yet knew she had to ask.

In a faint whisper, "Jack...?"

Gibbs' grey-blue eyes clouded. It was all the answer she needed.

As she felt his loving touch, his buoyant laugh, his roguish aura fade away, the faces of the five people responsible floated before her.

She felt raw emotion well up and threaten to pour out into the world, but she fought it. She was Elizabeth Swann, British elite, pirate maiden, expert duellist, betrothed of Jack Sparrow. Her love had been brutally taken from her, but she would not cry.

She would not cry.

She would get even.

She would Kill Will.

* * *

Author's Note: I just need to get this point across right here and now: this is only loosely based on 'Kill Bill'. Most of it strays from that storyline. And most characters range from a little to extremely OOC, but I do my best to keep it out of the realm of nonsensical and try to explain their behaviour. I don't suppose pleading for reviews would do me any good, so I won't. Just do it. Please?


	3. Chapter 2: Inheritance

Chapter 2:

Inheritance

* * *

It was another full day before Elizabeth was fully ready to exit her chambers. It had taken several hours just to convince her rebelling legs to get out of bed. But once out, she began preparing herself for her inevitable return to the Outside World. 

For she feared it immensely; stepping out those doors meant acknowledging what had happened. It meant admitting that she had been destroyed from the outside in. It meant confessing that her world wasn't safe anymore.

But worst of all, it meant conceding that Jack was gone.

And as long as she stalled, as long as she delayed, perhaps he was merely out on errands, or simply waiting to surprise her.

But she knew Jack, perhaps better than anyone else in the world, and it was far too out of his character to keep her waiting.

So she would accept what she could not change, and she would move on.

After a few detours.

* * *

-KW-

* * *

The crew had gathered outside the doors of the Captain's Cabin the moment Miss Swann was brought aboard. From the first day Jack had welcomed her into the crew, they treated her as one of their own. The men all loved her dearly, as though she were some bizarre combination of a mother and a sister and a daughter all at once; she took care of them, she worked with them, she laughed with them, and she was cared for by them. Seeing her shattered and battered enraged them, and they hungered for blood—not solely for her sake, but also for Jack's, knowing that the dead pirate would have been furious at the evils committed upon his lass. They all owed him that much, at least. 

But the hours turned into days, and the days turned into weeks, and when the weeks turned into months, they began to lose hope, and the vigil held at the doors shrank a little bit, day by day. If they lost Miss Elizabeth, there'd simply be no point. They'd all retire, go home to Tortuga, or simply go on to the next grand adventure with their old captain and his girl.

Then Gibbs had exited the cabin doors excitedly, proclaiming that a miracle had occurred; she was awake!

The vigil returned to full strength, becoming more of an assembly. They stood in ranks, waiting for her to fully come back to them.

And now, as the doors creaked open, they wondered if she really had.

* * *

-KW-

* * *

She was a dark figure. It was the first thing they noted about her. 

Dark navy blue pants tucked into dark boots, a blue vest closer to black than the pants covered a grey shirt, worn somewhat loosely. Covering her unusually tall frame was an almost black frock coat. A belt carried a pistol, a compass they all recognized, and a medallion that the Monkey Jack had most unwillingly given up. A second belt going from right shoulder to left hip held a sabre. Palm-covering leather gloves and rings on both ring fingers adorned her hands. A hat completed the ensemble.

It took them all a moment to realize that she looked and dressed very much like Jack had.

Save for the eyes; her eyes were no longer the jubilant, shining blue they once were. They were now steely, cold orbs that could have pierced the Buckingham Palace walls.

For a long moment, nothing happened.

Then, as one, the pirate crew snapped to attention in recognition of their new leader.

Elizabeth nodded, and cast a look to Gibbs. He received its intended message, and called, "Dismissed. Prepare to make sail!" Moving to her side as she moved across the deck, he asked in a more subdued voice, "Where to?"

As she came to a halt in front of the wheel, she ordered in a calm, even voice, "Her."

* * *

-KW-

* * *

Following the now-familiar river path, the crew of the _Black Pearl_ followed the lead longboat up the river, moving through the foggy banks and muddy waters, coming to stop at an equally familiar dwelling. 

Exiting the lead longboat, Elizabeth ordered, "One man from each boat remain behind to mind the boat. The rest of you, inside." As Gibbs sent a questioning look her way, she explained, "Jack excluded all but a few of his crew. I will not make the same mistake."

He nodded, seeing it was merely another loyalty reinforcement. Though he wouldn't be the one to tell her that she already had the crew's devotion.

Elizabeth entered first, followed closely by Gibbs. The two were the first to survey the witch.

Tia Dalma raised her eyes from her work, and stared at the intruders. "Miss Elizabeth," her heavy Caribbean accent intoned, "do come in."

Ever the polite courtier, she nodded, "Thank you, Tia Dalma."

The bayou witch gave a nod to Gibbs, indicating he could sit as well, though she ignored the rest of the men who filed in. She did, however, wait until all were in before asking, "Where be witty Jack?"

She could instantly tell from the flash of agony that zipped across Elizabeth's face and the collective sag in posture of the men that this would not be good.

"He's dead," a crewman said.

Wordlessly, she sat across from the withdrawn former wife-to-be. Then, "So what can I help you with?"

The girl raised her eyes to meet Tia's, and the mystic barely suppressed the impulse to flinch back from the penetrating gaze. It had been a very long time, she thought, since she had been genuinely afraid of someone. And she wasn't afraid of Miss Elizabeth; she was _terrified_.

"I want the powers of captaincy of the _Black Pearl_."

* * *

-KW-

* * *

Across from her, Tia Dalma did not react, apart from going very, very still. "What do you speak of?" the swamp witch said carefully. 

"I speak of the abilities that Jack had in his arsenal before his death," Elizabeth said curtly, not in the mood for the witch's coy little word games. "His accelerated healing, his uncanny luck, his unparalleled skill, and his fine-tuned control over the sea."

At the last, Gibbs spoke. "Control of the sea? What is—how could Jack control the sea? If he did, surely the hurricanes..."

"Did you ever notice, Master Gibbs," Dalma spoke, "that the waves were never too high, never too strong, and you never, _ever_ lost a man?"

"Well, we had a fine crew..."

"A crew that needed weathering and experience, yet could not be lost. So," Tia peered over her ring-adorned hands, "witty Jack kept the seas down the slightest bit to keep you all alive."

"And he never exerted a greater control..."

"Because Jack felt it was cheating the chance of the sea too greatly to use it to his advantage," Elizabeth finished. It was more a judge of character than actual knowledge, but it was accurate nonetheless.

"This burden, Miss Elizabeth," Tia turned to her. "Truly willing, are you, to take it on? A difficult burden it is, not to be undertaken lightly." As Elizabeth's eyes seemed to change colours to a stormy grey, Tia realized that even those carefully chosen words were mildly offensive.

She did not, thankfully, take great offence. If she did, Tia wasn't sure if her magical abilities could actually save her.

"I am prepared for whatever may be required of me in this role, Tia Dalma," she said gravely. It was clear that this girl would not be scared away from the role.

She sighed. Her body felt every one of her many, many years in that one moment. "Alright." She decided that she could help this girl out, at least a little; she still carried a torch for Jack, even if barely a tinder. "But if you're going to sail a course that I suspect you are, I suggest first going to Okinawa."

"Okinawa?"

"Yes," Tia nodded. "There is a teacher whom you would benefit studying under. I shall give you the name. But it is a name for your ears alone," she eyed the men in the room. "Something between us girls, yes?"

Nodding in understanding, the men filed out to the boats, Gibbs following with a departing "We'll be in the boats whenever you're ready."

Once Gibbs closed the door, Elizabeth turned. "Now, who is this teacher...and where might I find him?"

Tia Dalma, for the first time that night, grinned.

* * *

-KW-

* * *

It was bare moments after settling into the longboats that Elizabeth came back to the crew. She wordlessly got into the boat. The rest of the crew had already departed for the ship as soon as she left the house, so most of the crew beat her boat to the ship. 

When her boat arrived, she was the last to come aboard. The moment she set foot on the deck, she heard Gibbs' familiar voice say, "Captain on deck!" And immediately the crew came to attention.

She understood that this was merely a display of loyalty in return for tonight, and could not expect it much past tonight, but she appreciated it nonetheless. She gave a barely perceptible nod to Gibbs, and climbed the steps to the wheel.

Reaching out, she gently caressed the soft wood, for the first time truly understanding Jack's compassion for the ship. It was as if she could feel every timber, every wave lap at her sides, every wind gust waiting for use. And she understood.

She surveyed her crew, who looked back at her proudly, and said, "On deck, you mangy dogs! Weigh anchor and hoist sail!" Turning to Gibbs, "Set course for the Atlantic while I chart a path."

"Yes, ma'am," Gibbs moved to the wheel.

As she entered the Captain's Cabin—her cabin, now—she drew out a sheet of parchment, and a quill. Keeping her hand eerily straight, she wrote very slowly and deliberately, especially so with the last name. When she was done, she examined her handiwork.

_Kill List Five:_

_Sao-Feng_

_AnaMaria_

_Hector Barbossa_

_James Norrington_

_Will Turner_

Looking up as she pinned the list to the wall, let a tear slip from her eye. As she returned to her desk and moved to the navigation maps, "I'll get them for you, love" was the momentary, tearful, aching slip that was to be one of the last for Captain Elizabeth Swann of the _Black Pearl_.

* * *

Author's Notes: I received in one or more reviews--I'm not going to bother to go back and check--something regarding the OOC-ness of most characters. If I may explain how dearest William could have such a dramatic shift in character...one review said it best:"It's always the quiet ones, isn't it?". But more so...any of us who have ever experienced the touch of love know that we'd do almost anything to hold onto it...and the loss of it can drive even the most rational among us to commit acts of out-and-out insanity.


	4. Chapter 3: The Teacher from Okinawa

Chapter 3:

The Teacher from Okinawa

* * *

It amazed Gibbs that they had been able to proceed with such haste and swiftness. The journey from the deep Caribbean to the easternmost tip of New Spain was normally a month's journey—even with a favourable breeze, which Gibbs had always sourly noted that the Aztec gods seemed disinclined to provide. Yet the _Black Pearl_ under Elizabeth's handling and newfound powers had made the distance in little more than a week. From there, he decided to recalibrate his estimation for time to travel to Okinawa, and had to recalibrate again when a different route was taken. 

Captain Swann had opted to go around the southernmost tip of the continent, rather than go around Africa and India—based on, she had explained, a vested interest in avoiding both the Royal Navy and the operating area of Sao-Feng's formidable _Empress II_.

So, after barely six weeks, the _Black Pearl_ glided into port in Okinawa, almost eight months ahead of schedule.

In those six weeks, the captain had been out and about on the deck often, helping with maintenance of the ship, helping catch extremely large, sumptuous fish (due in no small part to her exceptional luck and control of the sea), and practicing sparring with the crew. While she was already a skilled duellist in her own right, she wanted to be certain that she would be, when the time was right, unbeatable. It also helped that the constant practice trained her men, slowly bringing them up to a skill level that rivalled some of England's finest fighters.

So it was with the best sailors and finest duellists of Britain that the _Black Pearl_ came into dock. From the moment the gangway was lowered, Elizabeth descended the ramp. After, of course, quick and concise orders to Gibbs that the sailors were to restrain themselves from disrespecting and disobeying the laws of Japan; she needed the good will of these people for her ship to remain in her command.

And she needed the good will of one person in particular.

* * *

-KW-

* * *

Elizabeth Swann entered the small, cosy home, being polite enough to remove her boots before moving past the entryway into the comfortably sparse home. As she moved, her eyes took in the soft wood and carvings decorating the walls without ever actually moving to look at them directly. 

She came to a door, which she reached out and slid to the side. Inside the room before her was a small woman.

The first thing that struck her about this woman was that she was stunningly pretty.

The second was that she did not seem very Japanese at all.

She knelt in a position of quiet meditation, her legs crossed. Her robes were a soft white that appeared to be silk. She was of diminutive stature, and was what would be by male judgment, very attractive. Her long hair was a downy blonde, tied behind her head in a ponytail, with a few dreadlocks artfully framing her face.

She wore around her neck a necklace that was originally a fairly round piece of wood. It had carved out of it a circle, which surrounded a smaller hole bored into the centre of the circle; how the smaller hole and the wood surrounding it was kept within the larger circle she couldn't begin to figure out. Under the circle was a teardrop-shaped, intricate design of lines criss-crossed throughout its interior. It bore a striking resemblance to what she had seen in mythology to mean 'Perseverance'.

. Her skin was a flawless alabaster, not fleshy or stretched taut to her bones, but a fair contrast between the two, which helped to define her delicate cheekbones. By the definitions of the Royal Court, and that of any man or woman, she was absolutely gorgeous.

Calmly, Elizabeth bowed deeply to the woman, never looking away from the girl's face.

Then her eyes opened.

Her eyes were a piercing blue that had the strangely affecting quality of radiating warmth and compassion, to the point where Elizabeth felt the emotions when her gaze rested upon her.

"Greetings, English woman," the girl spoke in a soft, melodious, yet firm voice. It had the curiously alarming effect of putting her at ease and feeling as if she were at the whim of this girl. "Please, do come in."

"_Domo_," Elizabeth bowed.

"You speak Japanese," the girl said with a hint of surprise and delight.

"I speak a little bit," Elizabeth amended. "Not much, though. And you speak English."

She raised one shoulder, almost a practiced look of no concern. "I picked it up. May I offer you some tea?"

"I would be delighted," Elizabeth nodded gratefully.

As the girl poured the tea into two small mugs, she asked, "Is there something I can do for you, English woman?"

"Well, for starters, you could call me Elizabeth. It is my name, after all," Elizabeth said without a trace of rebuke.

"Certainly, Elizabeth." She turned her head the slightest bit, as if wary. "Your words 'for starters' imply that there is more I can do for you. Is there?"

"Well, yes, there is." Elizabeth leaned back the slightest bit. "I am looking for someone. Someone here in Okinawa. And I could use some assistance in locating this person."

"Hmm." The girl nodded, her eyes downcast in thought. "An old friend of yours?"

"Nope," Elizabeth told her. "We've never met."

"Oh?" This piqued the girl's interest. "If I may be so bold as to ask, who is it that you are looking for? I am a very well-connected woman; perhaps I know this person."

"Well, I'm actually fairly confident that you know the person very well," Elizabeth said into her cup of tea. It tasted incredible. She made a mental note to later ask her what was in it.

"Well, I cannot know that for sure until I know the name," the girl said in an unsubtle way of saying _get to the point, already_.

So she did. "I'm looking for Ashido Yukira."

The Japanese woman made no sign that she had heard, apart from becoming as still as a rock. "What do you want with her?"

"She can help me with what I need," Elizabeth said ambiguously.

"And what is it you need?"

"Vengeance."

* * *

-KW-

* * *

She climbed into the attic of the dwelling after opening the hatchway and ascending the bamboo ladder. What she found in the attic amazed her. 

There before her were five tall bamboo racks, each holding five curved pieces of wood held safely in outreaching pieces of bamboo.

They were _katanas_. Samurai swords. The greatest swords ever made.

She stepped to the racks, admiring as only a swordsman could, each and every item. She came to the fourth rack, and admired one piece in particular. From behind her, the girl said, "Try the second one down."

She did, lifting the item delicately. She gently grasped the handle protruding from the wood, and jerked her hand slightly, jarring the first six or seven centimetres of steel out of its sheath. The steel bore a strange marking that she knew marked the blade as one of Ashido Yukira's blades. She then slowly pulled the rest of the blade out, and experimentally twirled the blade in the air. The girl looked on.

"How much for one?"

"I could never sell one of these swords," the girl informed her.

"Then give me one."

The girl laughed at that. "Give you one? Why in the world would I?"

"An old friend of yours is dead, and it's at the hands of another old friend. I want the latter to die. To do that, I will need an Ashido Yukira _katana_, and perhaps training in martial arts," Elizabeth described.

Bowing her head in sadness, the girl turned to the open window, and whispered to the air, "Jack."

Then she turned back. "You can stay here for a year. It will take me that long to forge the sword properly. I will also train you in that time."

"Thank you," Elizabeth imparted.

"Don't thank me yet," she warned. "Here and now, as compatriots, I will be friendly and open with you. When I train you, however, I will be merciless and heartless. I will make Pai Mei look like a pussycat compared to me."

"I understand," Elizabeth stated.

"Get some sleep. We begin tomorrow," said Ashido Yukira.

* * *

Author's Note: Trust me, she has her sweet moments, but in person, Yukira really can make Pai Mei look like a wimp in comparison. And she is genuinely in character in the next chapter. She's an intensely complicated person; guess that's what makes writing her as a character so much fun. I'll have Volume 1 completed and posted tomorrow, so stick around, folks!! 


	5. Chapter 4: Ashido Yukira's Tutelage

Chapter 4:

The Unusual Tutelage of Ashido Yukira

* * *

The next morning, they did indeed begin.

It started very easily. Elizabeth had awoken to see a neat set of cloth sitting on the top of the trapdoor leading downstairs. How the woman had placed them there, and then left without disturbing them was beyond her.

She picked up the top item to note that it was a set of clothes; fittingly enough, a set of dark robes. Along with them was a note, in English:

_This is what you will wear. I believe that it will make you think about your mobility more, and also help place you in the mindset of a warrior. And I do not want to see that sabre anywhere on your person. The same regards for the pistol. The compass will also be a hindrance, though if you plan on continuing to wear it when you depart, then I suggest you wear it. I will serve you breakfast, and then we will begin._

_Yukira_

Silently deciding that she did not want to start off her first day angering the woman, she peeled off the clothes of a pirate maiden, and began to get herself dressed in the kimono. As she folded the first part of the fabric around her thin frame, she thought back on the stories she had heard of Ashido Yukira.

First and foremost, she was something of a living legend. She had heard of her when she was in Port Royal from the traders. The then-young girl had inspired her to not be afraid of her father's ire at the idea of his daughter becoming a pirate wench. She was said to be a phenomenal martial artist. She had mastered six different forms of fighting, and had even developed her own that was unpredictable, and totally unstoppable. Elizabeth had heard stories that she had sent her own father through a wall at the age of seven after he shouted at her for some benign mistake.

The _sensei_, who outspokenly claimed to not deserve the title, had also mastered to a degree of perfection beyond anyone else, the art form of forging the well known, but little-seen Japanese katana. It was said that the samurai sought her out almost singularly for their blades.

Very few of those who asked actually got their sword, though; her test for who deserved the sword was for the person to try and defeat her in combat. The lucky warriors held her off for perhaps a few minutes, even teaching her a few new tricks.

She was a brilliant woman, able to speak numerous languages at an early age, and had apparently devoured the French language almost as hungrily as she had English. It was always a topic of speculation as to how a Japanese woman had ended up having blonde hair and blue eyes, but most sailors quietly bought into the suspicion that she was not wholly of this world.

For them, it was also an explanation for the young prodigy's rather unusual oddities, such as an ability to disarm with her personality rather than any flashy combat moves, her sometimes ethereal calm…and her rumoured romantic deviations towards her own gender.

Personally, it didn't concern Elizabeth in the slightest. It was her choice to be who she was…and her sexuality was part of that, whether other people agreed with it or not. She could also see why the young woman was able to not have people attempt to physically force the 'perversion' out of her; she would most likely crush anyone who dared try. Besides, the woman was extremely attractive; Elizabeth was very certain that the girl could, if the urge came to her, charm her way into the bed of any man _or_ woman she fancied to.

Placing the final belt on her outer robes, she observed herself from the neck down. The light brown base robe nicely complemented the much darker, almost to the point of entering the black colour realm, shade of brown that her outer robes were.

She finished by taking two dark pieces of wood that sat under all the robes, and twirled her hair into a bun at the back of her head, holding it in place with the dark sticks. She felt a few stray hairs escape, but paid them no mind; they would probably have come loose during what was most likely going to be very intense physical training anyhow.

* * *

-KW-

* * *

She descended the stairs, and came to the familiar room where Yukira waited. The moment she first heard the floor creak, she had poured the hot tea. When the door opened, she looked up at her new student. She nodded approvingly at the attire and her eyes lingered for a moment at her hair, and then gestured to the pillow on the floor. "Please, sit down before you fall down."

As she obeyed, Elizabeth half-laughingly said, "I don't think I'm going to fall down just now, but thank you."

Then a glint flashed through Yukira's eyes that made the back of Elizabeth's neck prickle like a pincushion. "Oh, trust me," the blonde girl said, chuckling into her tea as she took a sip, "You will be by tonight."

Elizabeth nodded. "I don't doubt it."

They spent the next few minutes in relative peace, sipping their tea. Then Elizabeth rose her voice a little, saying, "I hope you don't mind my asking, but…"

"Yes, I did throw my father through the wall when I was seven; in my mind, he deserved it. All modesty and self-deprecation aside, yes, I am as good as they say, and _oui, je parle vous français_."

Elizabeth stared slightly. "How did you know that was what I was going to ask you?"

"I'm a goddess, my dear, I know everything I can," Yukira smiled sardonically. "It's what almost everyone asks me."

She hesitated for a moment or two longer, and then, "There was one other question I was going to ask about the rumours. It's…" she trailed off.

Yukira seemed to grow very tired in that one instant, seeming decades older than her twenty-seven years. She sighed as she set down her now empty cup of tea. "I know what you wish to know." She looked at her student. "Do you believe it?"

Elizabeth shifted in her seat, uncomfortable. She finally answered, "I'm not sure."

Then a wicked smile spread from ear to ear, and Yukira was back. "Well, you'll just have to figure that one out for yourself."

She rose. "Now, come on. No time like the present, eh?"

* * *

-KW-

* * *

For a whole year, they trained.

Ashido Yukira—Kira, as Elizabeth learned to call her—was completely honest in her assessment of her own brutality. The only experience that had been more physically and mentally taxing was her doomed wedding. Yet this was made infinitely better that when they left the attic, Kira became like the sister she never had. The girl liked to share experiences of combat and stories of Okinawa with her over her fantastic tea—which she absolutely refused to divulge the ingredients of.

Once they returned to the attic, though, it was all business. And torture. The first time Kira grabbed her arm, it had caught Elizabeth off guard. Her teacher used that to her advantage, smashing her hand into Elizabeth's elbow, and then, stepping inside Elizabeth's guard, delivering a hard elbow into her jaw.

The trick had not worked twice.

After having slammed Elizabeth clean through a wall, Kira had walked up to the rubble of the wall, and looked down at the folded-over captain. "For an uncoordinated, staggering, half-blind punching bag," she noted, "You are the fastest learner I've ever had."

It rather seemed odd to Elizabeth that the praise always somehow managed to come _after_ the punishing blow.

It was another time that she had been struck in the face with Elizabeth's foot after a high-jump, that she flipped with the blow, using the momentum Elizabeth had given her to back flip into a kick of her own that sent Elizabeth clean out the wall into the street below. Leaping out the hole to the ground beside the bruised girl, Kira rubbed her jaw, saying, "Nice kick. I wasn't expecting that."

They also found, while repairing the many holes made in her walls and floors, that they both enjoyed to joke and laugh about what they had done to one another with their attempts at teaching and learning.

Other times, the _katanas_ she had made in the years before came into play. She had randomly grabbed one and come at Elizabeth, who didn't even have tie to unsheathe the blade; she simply blocked and parried using the wood encasing the blade. Then, when one blow landed in the sheath, she twisted, throwing both the wood and the _katana_ across the room. The moment Elizabeth's borrowed blade began to descend to her, Kira rolled backwards and grabbed another sword. She barely blocked it in time. After leaving a nice Elizabeth-face-impression in the floor, she congratulated her on a fight well and craftily fought.

The _katanas_ on the shelves had all been used multiple times, and in multiple combinations. At this point, Elizabeth could spin two katanas in her hands, and using fancy footwork and techniques to defeat an opponent. It was techniques that she literally learned from the ground up—she learned from the mats that Kira smacked her onto, up to her knees that some of the blows sent her to, and finally standing and taking, even blocking the blows that would have killed lesser opponents.

Then, finally, after a year of hard times, good times and more hard training, the sword was done.

* * *

-KW-

* * *

Kira was quiet as she knelt before Elizabeth, her student kneeling also. One wore her robes of soft white, while the other was dressed in flowing cloths of the darkest night. The master held a sword and its sheath in her hands. She slowly raised it upwards, as if bestowing it from the Heavens.

She spoke. "In ten years of making works of art and evil, creating things meant to kill other human beings, never before in my life have I made or even seen a blade such as this one. It is with no pride or egotism that I honestly call this my finest blade. Should you encounter God on your quest for vengeance, He Himself could not stand before this blade."

Kira lowered it slightly, and Elizabeth took that as her cue to raise up her own hands, and reverently take the _katana_.

She tugged slightly, the blade jutting out the slightest bit, just enough to see her master and friend's trademark. Then, as she slid the blade all the way out of its sheath, she noticed writing upon it. While able to speak Japanese thanks to Kira's kind teaching, she was not gifted with the ability of reading it. "What does this say?"

Kira smiled. "It says, '_I belong to she that love guides_'. I found it fitting."

And in all honesty, Elizabeth supposed that it was. Her lost love for Jack drove her onwards each day, and her love of the idea of fulfilling her vengeance gave her the passion to fight and win. As well as other ways, ways that she couldn't even try to contemplate now.

"_Arigato_," Elizabeth bowed her head to her master.

Kira returned the bow of the head, and then rose, moving to look out the dark window.

Elizabeth studied her friend, and reached out to her. "_Sensei_, you could come with me; I sense that you wish Jack to be avenged as well."

Her friend did not turn to look at her. For a long time, she did not speak. Then, as Elizabeth began to wonder if she'd grievously offended her, she spoke quietly but decisively:

"No."

Then Kira turned, and Elizabeth was somewhat startled to see tears silently descending down her master's face. She had only seen them one other time before, and it was as disheartening then as it was now.

* * *

-KW-

* * *

It had been on a day when their training had been particularly gruelling. Into perhaps the eighth month, Elizabeth was able to fight back fairly well most of the time.

It seemed that this day was not 'most of the time'.

Something was eating at her master, and she could tell; not solely from the distant look in her eyes, or the grim dash of red that was her mouth, but in particular, from the emotion that fuelled the blows that got through.

In truth, neither of them was having a particularly good day; the both of them were tired from an overly late night the previous night, and the rain was not helping their moods in the slightest.

Elizabeth's day was decidedly worse, however; it was the first anniversary of Jack's death. In her mind, nothing else could possibly top such a sorrow as she felt.

She knew that her master would not appreciate her bringing her emotions into the ring, as she often spoke at length, and with disdain, against the idea of doing so. Then again, she broke her own rule, so Elizabeth would follow her example.

She began to allow her raw pain and anger to flood into her veins, letting her hatred power her fist as she charged through Kira's guard, and landed a harsh blow to her master's face.

It was in that precise moment that she realized that the move was a serious mistake.

Kira's eyes flashed, and suddenly she was on the floor of the kitchen, table smashed beneath her, rainwater dampening her face. As best as her screaming back and chest could tell her, it seemed that Kira, in a fit of decided anger, grabbed Elizabeth by the sides rather harshly, thrown her into the air clean through the roof, and then on her descent, jumped on top of her to propel her through the floor. On landing, her knee was lodged very firmly at the base of Elizabeth's ribcage.

It was a combination of moves meant to inflict extreme amounts of pain, and Elizabeth's body was very willing to attest to its functionality in that regard.

"_What_ have I told you about bringing your emotions into the fight?! It jeopardises your stability, compromises your control, and _makes you not think_!!!" Even in the semi-dark, Elizabeth could see that Kira was enraged.

Then again, so was she. Angry at Kira's hypocrisy, she spat out before she could even think, "How would you know? You seem to have forgotten those words yourself!"

She saw that her words wounded Kira in a very vital place, because the deadly woman slumped and not so much got off as _rolled off_ her chest. In a flash of the lightning brewing in the storm above them, she saw some wet streaks on Kira's face.

Unbidden, tears came to her eyes. She only wanted the girl off her back about her mood, she really had not meant to hurt the diminutive woman—

_Oh, yes you did._

Her inner head spun around at the accusation.

_You wanted her to feel every bit of pain you are feeling._

'Fine, so I did. Is that so bad?'

What did this lass do to you to deserve your ire? Hmm? What hideous sin could she possibly have committed that made it right for you to dive off the deep end and take out your self-pitying misery on her?

She didn't have an answer for that, and that made her cry more; she had no rationale at all for what she had done. Well, there was one, really, but that was no explanation at all. She forced herself to face it; she had harmed someone she considered a very close friend for no reason at all than to make herself _feel better_.

Then she felt the barrier shatter when it hit her that it was Jack's voice berating her for her outburst.

She started to crawl back into her mental shell, the one that had protected her for so long after her failed wedding. Perhaps there she could find some solace, a safe place to stay until the end of time...

Then she felt Kira take her by the shoulders and pull Elizabeth to her, drawing her head against her chest, resting her own head atop hers, an embrace that startled her so much that she should have leapt all the way back through the two shattered ceilings into the dark sky. But she didn't, and instead sagged against the other woman, feelings arms wrap around her as her mute tears soaked Kira's emerald tunic.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I knew what today was, and I still let it throw me off. I worried about caring about you too much, so I went overboard the other way." She softly said into the wavy golden-brown hair beneath her, "I'm so sorry."

"Please, I don't deserve your apologies," Elizabeth choked out, refusing adamantly to sob. "I lashed out at you. I didn't have any right to, and it was just to make you hurt a little bit." As she spoke, she felt the arms around her tighten, pulling her closer still. "I'm so sorry I said that, Kira. I really do care about you, and I can't bear hurting you like that."

For a time, the older girl said nothing. For the longest time it seemed, the rain dripped through the ruined centre of the house, down onto the pair of women clinging to one another tightly, as if there were no other person in the world.

When she did speak, it was quiet, in a whisper that Elizabeth had to strain to hear. "Yes, you do. I…I was fighting my instincts. I was trying to put distance between us, you know? I wanted to keep you at arm's length."

Elizabeth let out a darkly amused snort. "That's working wonders, isn't it?"

Kira didn't seem to find it so amusing. "Liz, I was scared," she said softly.

Elizabeth looked up at that. "Of what?" It was utterly inconceivable to her that Kira, one of the greatest living legends ever, a master of Japan, and the deadliest woman on this hemisphere could be frightened of _anything_. There rose up in Elizabeth a sudden, surprising desire to help the girl with what was troubling her. She supposed part of her wanted to know that Kira wouldn't stop being strong, but…

"I was so afraid," Kira said quietly, her face buried in Elizabeth's hair, "of caring about you the way I do."

As part of Elizabeth wondered at that, another part of her felt a soaring sensation that was hauntingly familiar. She couldn't place it, but it seemed like an old friend that she hadn't seen in a long time; it was an emotion that was doing its honest best to take her up, out of the gloom, past the stormy clouds to the heavens above, and fly higher than any bird could dream of., without any cares, without revenge, without Will—

Without Jack.

The memory of her dead lover's face did keep her firmly anchored to the floor, though Kira's tight embrace did more than enough of a job. _Kira…_

And that feeling became crystal clear in its origins.

Unbidden, words left her mouth that she most certainly hadn't told the treacherous oratorical tool to say. "Please, don't leave me. I need you." Hearing the words for the first time in her head, Elizabeth froze, not moving.

Kira softly whispered to her, "I need you, too."

And so the two women sat there for an eternity, each somehow silently comforted by the other woman's arms as Kira slowly rocked the other until sleep slowly claimed them both.

* * *

-KW-

* * *

The next morning had been brighter, but not that much better, overall. Kira was far more withdrawn than usual, and Elizabeth was not having it. It had gone from irritating to alarming when, in a simple sparring match, she made it through Kira's guard without her noticing. Concerned, she did so again. And again. With the fourth time, she deliberately landed a blow that knocked her to the ground.

The message had obviously gotten across, by the chastised look Kira wore, but she was still distant for the rest of the day.

Nightfall had come, and Elizabeth had simply given in to her previous inclination. As Kira moved to go to bed, Elizabeth blocked her way. "What's going on with you?" she asked, looking directly into her friend's averted eyes.

It's nothing," she dodged.

Elizabeth wouldn't have it. "If it's nothing, then you can tell me."

Kira tried to get past her. "Liz, let me sleep."

She didn't budge. "Not until you tell me what's bothering you so much."

A vein pulsed in Kira's neck, indicating her extreme level of frustration, and she snarled at her student, "Why can't you just take a hint and leave me alone?"

The words slipped out, "Because I care about you, too, dammit!"

Kira looked terribly ashamed. She bowed her head, pointedly staring at her feet as she muttered, "You shouldn't."

"Well, I do."

"I wish you wouldn't," she said even lower.

"Well, there's nothing you can really do about it, Kira." Elizabeth softened. "You let me trust you, so why can't you trust me?"

She shifted from foot to foot, put off by the other girl's vehement declarations. "I always end up hurting the people I let in," she finally said.

Elizabeth smiled simply. "You won't hurt me."

"How can you be so sure?" Kira stared at her friend. "How can you just stand there and have unquestioning faith in me, not knowing what I've done, where I've been?"

"I can," Elizabeth said, "because I don't care about that. It's the past, so I say leave it there. If everything of our pasts makes us who we are today, then I couldn't care less what you've done in the past. Not if this is who you've become because of it."

"Liz, the things I've done are unforgivable," she persisted.

Elizabeth tilted her head. "I've done some unforgivable things, too. And I plan on doing five more. My crew knows about most of the things. Do you think they don't trust me, they think I'm a rotten evil person?"

"That's _different_…"

"How? We all do things we wish we didn't. We cannot change it; put it aside," she ordered.

Kira finally looked at her. "Is this the Captain Swann side of you? Decisive, bold, single-minded?"

She had to confess, "Yes, it is."

Finally, Kira smiled, "Hmm," whilst absentmindedly twirling a lock of Elizabeth's hair between two of her fingers. "I could get used to it."

* * *

-KW-

* * *

She still wondered at the emotions that had been hinted at, as her master said, "No."

Elizabeth stepped towards the smaller woman, gently reaching up with a hand, softly brushing away a tear that had escaped the sad navy blue eyes before her.

"I confess to wishing those five dead, but I haven't the willpower to kill anyone. I haven't in such a long time," she reminisced, as if thinking of an old friend that she remembered well, yet did not terribly miss. "That's why I cannot travel with you." She shook her head. "No, Liz, I will remain here, and await your return. When you have succeeded, I would ask you to, please, return to me here. I wish to share some more things with you then…things that would…" she seemed to hesitate, "…only burden you now."

Dimly, Elizabeth realized her hand had never left Kira's cheek. Bits and pieces of the memories she had just been reliving came back to her as she looked into her closest friend's eyes, and wondered. Feeling the instinct to say something, she did, rather than give in to the desire to just remain here, like this. "I promise you, I will come back."

The look that flashed through the diminutive girl's eyes said that it was everything she could have ever asked for. The tears had stopped their flow, and Elizabeth stepped forward, finally moving her hand from Kira's cheek to her shoulder, and down to meet her other arm in a warm, tight, close embrace.

Unable to resist the need for levity at least once a day Jack had instilled in her, "And _then_ you will give me the ingredients of your most excellent green tea."

The women shared a laugh. "Maybe a few other things, too," Kira added as Elizabeth took a small step back, still keeping the other girl close. There was something in her eyes that Elizabeth couldn't figure out…hope, perhaps?

"Maybe," Elizabeth said. As she spoke, something passed between them, like a spark of something, something she couldn't quite let go of…like the dear friend that stood before her. "I'll see you soon," she promised.

"You had better," her master threatened. "Or I'll throw you through another wall."

"You'll try," Elizabeth smiled. They closed the distance between them for one last embrace, and then Elizabeth slipped away.

* * *

-KW-

* * *

After a whole year, the crew of the _Black Pearl_ had become restless. They obeyed their captain's orders to in turn obey the law, but they were chafing. More and more, they had to wonder if, loyalty aside, perhaps Miss Elizabeth had abandoned them, and moved on without them. Even with the infrequent post that came by the odd messenger from time to time saying, '_I'm still here, I'm coming home_ _soon_' could not dissuade the notion of abandonment. And so, their resolve faded occasionally, and in keeping with their orders, they restrained themselves to the ship for the rowdiness.

It was in one of these spells of rowdiness that Gibbs spotted a dark figure approaching the dock with a curved blade attached to it. He shook his head in bemusement.

The first time a samurai had tried to board their ship, four heavily armed sailors warned him off trying again. It had been a few weeks later when ten samurai came back. More than twenty masters of the cutlass repulsed them.

So it caused Gibbs some incredulity at the foolishness of only one samurai with one blade to attempt to board again. He called to the men, who drew their blades, standing at the ready.

They all watched as the samurai confidently strode forward, not even faltering at the gangplank, which had several sets of bloodstained armour and empty curved scabbards littering the ground about it. It was almost as if the samurai knew that it was doctored rubbish, simply the stolen suits sprayed with hog's blood, and the swords aboard in the hands of the more skilled fighters.

Then, the five bearing _katanas_ stepped forward, steel gleaming in the moonlight.

The samurai drew his blade. It hung parallel to his hip as he raised an arm, and held out an open palm—the universal sign of _just try it_.

So they did.

The pair that trained together leapt forward first, both swinging at one of the samurai's two halves. It was a move they had practiced often on chunks of wood brought aboard, always with the same results; the log was sliced neatly into three pieces.

This did not happen to the samurai.

He moved blindingly fast, blocking the lower blade and twisting in midair to deliver a two-footed kick to the higher-swinging pirate's midsection, sending him flying across the deck. The lower one made the mistake of following his partner's progress first with his eyes.

The rest of him very quickly followed.

Then the next two moved forward, each attacking at different angles on opposing sides. The samurai twirled back a step, parrying one blade and then launching into the air to stand atop the other blade. It seemed as if the faceless warrior was smirking as he let them stare incredulously at his stunt for a moment, then delivered a fast kick to the pirate's head, knocking him over and making him reflexively drop his sword. The samurai, quick as a flash, rapped the blade with his boot and sent the _katana_ flying up to his left hand, and moved that _katana_ with his own to form a blocking 'x' against the other blade. Then he stepped back, freeing the fourth pirate's blade. He moved again, stabbing towards the intruder...

Who twirled swiftly, blocking with his left blade, spinning into his guard and bringing his own sword pommel into direct contact with the sailor's jaw.

It was only a quick lunge backwards that saved the samurai from the fifth and final attacker. The samurai rose, then, and cast away the second blade. He then twisted his blade—they all realized the warrior had kept the sharp side facing _him_—and swung into the pirate's guard viciously.

The _katana_ the pirate held was sliced cleanly in half. Too busy staring at the broken blade in wonder, the pirate could not stop the samurai from entering his guard, and raising his blade—

He smacked the pirate on the cheek, and with a disdainful kick, pushed him to the deck.

The strange _katana_ returned to its sheath as the invincible samurai removed his hood to reveal the features of Miss Elizabeth. They realized she was wearing a large billowing black cloak over her personal garb as disguise.

"Put those swords down," she ordered.

As they happily did so, "And collect the armour. It will be useful later on."

* * *

Up next, we finally get to some revenge!!! 


	6. Chapter 5: The Omega of SaoFeng

Chapter 5:

The Omega of Sao-Feng

* * *

The _Black Pearl_ slid across the East China Sea in towards Shanghai in an effort to draw out Sao-Feng and his _Empress II_. Elizabeth had already planned and re-planned the scenarios a dozen times in order to cover every eventuality, every possibility, and leave as little to chance as possible.

For her, the best-case scenario would be for Feng to attempt boarding the _Pearl_ with his men. Her crew could ably destroy anyone he had under his command, leaving him for her. She sincerely hoped the pirate lord kept up with his swordsmanship, because he would need it.

Worst-case scenario was having to board the _Empress II_, because it was an utterly unfamiliar ship, and the crew wouldn't have the home advantage—tough she was still confident in their ability to annihilate anyone who dared oppose them. Also, she didn't trust Feng to not have placed strategic booby-traps about his ship just for repelling boarders.

The crafty Chinese man had always been full of surprises.

But it seemed that neither scenario would be the case.

She could see from her perch at the foremost point of the bow, as dusk approached, that the _Empress II_ was docked, and she knew from experience that the crew always spread out through the city, but not too far, should they need to return at a moment's notice. So she would approach the dock and enact Plan 'C', while her men moved in and did what they did best, which was also their slogan; 'raid, pillage, plunder, and otherwise pilfer my weaselly black guts out.'

* * *

-KW-

* * *

The figure of night stood on the dock alone. Shrouded in the shadows, no one on board the _Empress II_ would be able to see her. Which figured in very nicely with her plan.

She called out, "Sao-Feng! You and I have unfinished business!"

Almost immediately, assassins crawled from the shadows surrounding her. It was to be as she expected. _Damn. Being right all the time_ really _gets old_.

Then he appeared at the gangplank, amusedly eyeing her. "So we do, Miss Elizabeth. I see you survived. How unfortunate; we'd hoped the two lovers would descend to Hell together."

If he hoped to bait her, he would fail. "The rent was due on my apartment there, so I got booted out. Bad luck for you."

He laughed at that. "I think it is _you_ who has rotten luck. Gentlemen," he snapped his fingers.

The ten assassins moved in, each swinging swords that were of a horrible rusty colour that suggested maltreatment, bloodstains, or both. She waited until the last possible second, and then drew her _katana_, and twirled in a majestic three-sixty that ended with her blade at her side, cloak billowing, eyes locked back on Sao-Feng.

And ten assassins with ten severed blades and ten gashed torsos.

Admiring the carnage, Elizabeth reflected that Kira would have been proud of her student's perfect execution of a move she'd never been able to do in practice. As the blood from their wounds slowed from spurts to trickles, she stepped forward slowly. She cast a look of icy contempt to the Chinese pirate.

He laughed, and called out, "Boys!"

Quite literally on cue, all sixty of his crewmen appeared around her, armed to the teeth with knives, staffs and Chinese broadswords.

"You really didn't think it was going to be that easy, did you?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Y'know, for a second there...yeah, I kinda did." She whistled a strange tune that obviously had some significance, for a moment later, four other men stepped out of the fog. They were dressed in samurai armour, each bearing their own _katanas_. They flourished their blades, and then assumed the same posture she held.

Feng snarled, and shouted, "KILL THEM!"

Elizabeth did nothing.

The other four leapt into a flurry of action. Each was spinning with their _katanas_ singing in the air as they whirled and parried each blade that came at them. It was a while before any of them fell, but eventually, one man with a staff got lucky and stabbed a man through the neck. The other three panicked, and eventually, their resolve wasn't enough and they fell to the Chinese weapon masters, too.

Finally, it was forty men against Elizabeth.

She calmly surveyed the group of enemies, and serenely walked over to a body, and nonchalantly picking up one of the other _katanas_, not thinking about the loss of four of her brothers. She held the two blades in a blasé manner, each sitting on one of her shoulders. She gave the men glaring at her a gaze—another thing Kira had taught her, saying that intimidation sometimes worked better than execution—that reeked of condescension, almost as if saying _go home to your mother, boys._

They attacked in a mass. It was at the last possible second that she leapt into a spinning twirl, both blades singing as she sliced off two heads, the heads going backwards, the bodies falling forward.

Landing on one man's shoulders, she used him as a platform as she stabbed and jabbed at the men attempting to knock her off. Then, in a spin of her feet, she snapped the man's head in a ninety-degree twist that broke his neck.

Holding up three attacking blades with her left-handed _katana_, she swung her own _katana_ under their guards straight through their waists. In a flash of a glance, she saw Sao-Feng move back onto his ship. She did _not_ plan on letting him walk away, not after what he had done to her.

She began to move the colossal fight back towards the ship, facing two at a time as she moved across the first gangplank, onto the deck before the _Empress II._ Then she saw that Sao-Feng had removed the second gangplank up to his ship. _Filthy coward_.

She grabbed a sword that stabbed at her, and using two techniques Kira taught her, jabbed the man in the eyes, took his sword, and flung it into the side of the ship. She repeated the move with a second and third sword before running at a fourth man, kicking backwards off his chest and flying back onto the blades, using one as a springboard to the other, all the way up to the deck of the ship.

It was getting bloodier as the men assaulted her, trying to get into her guard and run her through.

As yet, none had succeeded in even getting close.

She flung her second _katana_ into a man that had tried a leap from the mast at her, which sent him right back to the mast, the _katana_ keeping him there. She then grabbed the staff that came a little too close to her eye for comfort, and, twisting, moved around it to deliver a harsh two-footed kick to the man, sending him clean off the edge of the ship.

_Katana_ in one hand, staff in the other, she whirled the latter about, striking one man in the face, beating back the others as need came. Then, in a burst of inspiration, she jabbed the sharp end of the spear-staff into the deck, and leapt into the air, holding onto the pole, doing a perversion of her previous two-footed kick, running around in a circle in midair from man to man, striking them in the jaws and necks, killing most of them. After completing several rounds, she bent the staff back, allowing it to catapult her to the other side of the ship.

Smiling in a feral manner, she swung her blade through two ropes near her.

And a bamboo sail came crashing down on the last five men, crushing them before they could ever get near her.

In the silence that followed, she called out, "Come along. I'm _wait-ing_," in a mocking singsong voice.

Then the Chinese captain came out, armed with his own wickedly curved sword that was more Arabian than Japanese. "So you are." He looked at her _katana_. "Is that...?"

"An Ashido Yukira sword? Yes," she answered.

There was a look on his face that suggested he was impressed. "A Yukira sword. The difficulty it takes to simply get her to sell a person a sword..."

"She made the sword for me," Elizabeth corrected. "Trained me, too."

"I don't believe you," he spat.

She laughed. "Yeah? Try me."

"It will be my pleasure," he snarled as he leapt at her.

Their swords clanged and clashed, banging together as they danced across the wood deck of the _Empress II_. Block up, strike down. Swing to the right, dodge to the left. Parry, parry, strike, thrust, back-flip.

As they duelled, "I see your ship is very similar to the original," Elizabeth commented.

"It was my intention," Sao-Feng explained as casually as if they were talking over tea. "Your skills are well-honed. You do have some ability after all."

"Thanks ever so," Elizabeth said with the slight trace of sarcasm under her voice. As she parried a blow, "If I may ask...why?"

"Why?" Sao-Feng shrugged off an attack and his shoulders. "Because he owed me money and would not repay."

"That's _it_?!" Her fury was palpable. "You destroyed my wedding, killed my love, beat me almost to death over _**money**_?!" Enraged, she spun in a blur of motion, swinging with all her might, slicing his sword in half, and then swinging back the other way, sliced off his head.

His body fell one way as his head fell the other. Stained with blood, exhausted, Elizabeth felt the first flashes of satisfaction as she saw him die. The first part of her revenge was done. _One down._

Four to go.

* * *

End of Volume 1

To be continued...


	7. Intermission

Kill Will

Volume 2

* * *

"Do you find this cruel?" 

She couldn't see who had spoken those words, but she knew. Despite her swollen eyelids, she recognized the words. Although her eyes were battered, she knew his voice.

She could not speak; the reason why not could vary wildly. It could have been her smashed jaw, destroyed from countless, merciless blows that were passionately dealt out; or her bruised neck, tortured to the point of agony from scores of vicious jabs to her throat; or her choked airways, ravaged with horrible vitreous fluids slipping from her brutalized mouth and drenched in blood that trickled down her tormented throat.

But for whatever reason, be it shattered bone, injured chords or blood-soaked lungs, she didn't respond to his question.

"Because it seems to me," she felt the floor bend slightly as he descended to her side, that you know me so well," he continued as he looked at her with a gaze so penetrating that she could simply feel it, lying on the floor, beaten to within an inch of her life, "you must understand that I am never cruel."

"I couldn't be," he added, wiping some of her blood away from her chin with a kerchief he'd drawn from his pocket, "not with you." The blood was slowly replaced with more leaking from her ruined nose. On its way down, it mixed with tears descending more rapidly from her bloodshot eyes.

"No," he rose, "this is me," he turned, "at my most," she faintly heard the familiar sound of steel rasping against leather, "vengeful."

"Will," she finally managed to murmur, "it's..."

They were her last words before he viciously lashed the blade across her neck in a fluid motion, severing her carotid artery.

* * *

-KW-

* * *

She may have looked dead, but he botched the job. The loyal crew of the _Pearl_ saved her, though they were too late to save Jack or anyone else there. After a long period of recovery, Elizabeth Swann set forth on a path towards vengeance. She took the powers of captaincy of the _Black Pearl_, trained with the legendary Ashido Yukira, and was given one of the Japanese master's swords, a samurai's _katana_. Armed with the deadliest training and thirst for blood, Captain Elizabeth Swann of the _Black Pearl_ has succeeded in killing the first of her five victims. And there are three more to go before the grand finale. The last full measure. 

And, in the name of revenge, she is going to Kill Will.

* * *

Author's Notes: FYI, Volume 2 will be posted here, so no separate story. And since it was asked, I'll answer, and I'll try not to be too Simon Cowall-esque: AnaMaria is on the 'Kill List Five' for the same reason that the other four names are; she had a part in crashing Elizabeth's wedding and killing Jack. Any other questions? Just leave them in your reviews.


	8. Chapter Six: Showdown at Tortuga

Chapter Six:

Showdown at Tortuga

* * *

AnaMaria strolled through the wild and zany streets of Tortuga. The city was as it always had been; some buildings burning, others filled with laughter and rum. On each street corner were kegs of alcohol, being sampled at a gratuitous rate. In the back of her head, she'd always wondered how the alcohol never seemed to run out in this town. 

Strolling into the bar, she saw that that was the same as it had always been, too. The men were brawling, drinking, or wooing, and the women were drinking, flirting, or screwing...in plain sight.

It was no wonder to her that the Navy and the Crown itself refused to acknowledge this island; it was as close to Hell as anyone could come. These people rolled and romped and wheeled in sin and debauchery and whisky, and they _loved_ _it_ all the while. While part of it disgusted her, she still knew that there wouldn't be any other place she'd decide to live.

Sitting at the bar, she surveyed the crowd, amused at the never-ending brawl. She didn't think about the warning that Will had sent her about Elizabeth and what she'd done to Sao-Feng. Elizabeth, though it amazed her that she was still alive, would never come into Tortuga looking for her; the women, while they were still friends, had always talked about this place deserving complete and utter destruction rather than prolonged existence.

So it was a complete and utter surprise to her when a shining blur severed her hair up to her neck, barely grazing the back of her neck, causing a trickle of blood to flow down her back.

She leapt out into the brawl, sword drawn. She thought the barflies knew better than to try and drag her into the fights; it normally ended with decapitations and dislocations. Then she saw the steely blur again, and her sword was snapped in half.

And before her, dressed in clothing like Jack's under a black cloak, was Elizabeth Swann.

For the first time in several years, true fear crept into AnaMaria. She started to run.

She ran harder and with more fear than she had ever felt in her life. She barrelled through the streets and alleys, leaping over the littered drunks and squatters, hoping that she could lose the vengeful woman.

And as the docks leading to her boat, the _Jolly Mon Deux_, came into sight, barely a few metres away, she felt the first glimmer of hope that she might just escape the murderous woman.

Then she felt the curved sword stab through her chest. Seeing the blade sticking out of her breastbone was both very metaphorically and very literally disheartening; she felt the blade jab at her heart, and she could feel her heart weakening from the mortal wound. Then she felt a boot against her back, and a yanking sensation as the _katana_ came out.

A boot toe slid under her side and flipped her over. As the pain was beginning to fade, as well as the corners of her vision, she still saw Elizabeth's enraged face. Then she said something strange in Japanese, and raised the blade.

It was right before the blade met her neck that she realized the Japanese meant, "For Jack."

Then she realized nothing at all.

* * *

-KW-

* * *

Will Turner set foot on the beach of Isla Cruces for the first time in several years. He remembered the last time he'd been here, with Jack and the others. The pain he felt was quickly repressed. 

It was one of the men from those memories that he'd come to see.

It was a short trek from the beach up to the long-abandoned chapel on the hill. Carefully stepping around the empty graves, he walked in the main door to see that the man he sought was doing an amazing job of reclaiming this structure from the jungle. This man looked up from his work as Will stepped in.

"Why, hello, Mister Turner," Hector Barbossa said with a toothy grin. "What can the old hermit do for you?"

Will couldn't help but smile a little. Ever since the confrontation with the East India Company around that whirlpool, all Barbossa had asked was that he be left alone to finish his second life here on this island. Save for crashing Jack's wedding, he had for the most part gotten his wish.

"I'm here to tell you about Elizabeth."

"Oh?" The greying pirate looked up. Because of his healthy living, the grey was advancing at a very slow rate, just beginning to invade his temples, even though he was almost sixty years old. "I thought you killed her."

"Evidently, not well enough. She's gone on what I suppose the poets would call a 'roaring rampage of revenge'."

"Ah," the old hermit nodded. "And I take it the roars and rampages concern us."

"Yes. She's already killed Sao-Feng and AnaMaria. Using a blade from Ashido Yukira herself, from what I hear," Will informed him.

"A Yukira sword?" He whistled through the few gaps in his otherwise pristine teeth. "Takes a lot to get that woman to do something for a person."

"Well, apparently, she knew Jack, and was a little perturbed about what we did to him," Will elaborated. "I'm here to ask; you been keeping up on your swordplay?"

The old man shook his head. "Not much need in this place."

"I'm also here, basically, to give you a heads-up, in case you want to hightail it out of here," Will finished. "AnaMaria thought that she'd never be found in Tortuga, and she died for it. I doubt there's anywhere we know of save England that's safe from her."

Barbossa shook his grizzled head. "No. I won't do what Jack did, and try to worm my way out of what I owe." He seemed deep in thought, and a look came across his face that it took Will a moment to realize what it was; it was a look of genuine regret.

"For what we did to her," he said softly, "that woman deserves her revenge... and... we... deserve to die."

Will nodded. "You won't come with me, then?"

"I once told you, William, that all I wanted was to live out the rest of my days in peace. And until she comes for me, that is what I'm going to do," Barbossa intoned in his hoarse voice. In that moment, he seemed every one of his fifty-nine years. "I guess this is goodbye."

"I suppose so," Will nodded. "Goodbye."

And he walked back to his boat without looking back even once.

* * *

Author's Note: Morality? Regret? Compassion? BARBOSSA? Who knew?

I DID, YOU PONCES!!!


	9. Chapter Seven: Massacre

Chapter Seven:

Massacre at Port Royal

* * *

As the _Black Pearl _glided through the unbelievably favourable night seas, Captain Swann tossed and turned in her bed. It had been a very long time since the nightmares had come for her, but now they were back in full force.

And she was powerless to stop them.

* * *

-KW-

* * *

It had been a beautiful day. The sun was high in the sky, the clouds were in full retreat, and the seven people that stood in the small chapel in the back of the Fort Charles were in high spirits.

As the two women of Jack's former life were there to well-wish and forewarn the bride-to-be about some of her fiancée's tendencies, two men from Jack's soon-to-be former life were also there to try and talk him out of it.

The minister was obviously in decided discomfort in his black clothes in the summer sun. Yet his spirits were buoyed at the love that simply radiated off the couple.

Elizabeth was nice and cool in her white wedding dress—as she had requested of the seamstresses, there was no corset. The veil billowed softly in the cool breeze that came from the hills and the sea.

Captain Jack Sparrow was resplendent in his neat clothes; they were an Admiral's uniform, commandeered from James Norrington after his defeat with the East India Navy. His ridiculous outfit, along with his personal hat, were back in his cabin at Elizabeth's request; she knew she'd never see him in such fine clothing again (save perhaps for the second honeymoon when they reached Venice—one of the few places in the world where there was no warrant for Jack's arrest), so she asked him to humour her just this once. After sourly pointing out that a condition of marriage was that the man humours the wife for the rest of his days, he acquiesced.

None of them looked down to see the ship that was hovering beneath the base of the fort, nor did they see the figures steadily climbing the rock face.

"Jack?"

Her husband-to-be turned to admire his gorgeous bride. "Yes, m'dear?"

"Come here a second." As he did so, they both could her the other women whisper to each other, 'look how well-trained she has him!'

Jack very pointedly ignored the whispers, and approached Elizabeth. "Yes, me sweet?"

"I just want to be sure you understand; we're taking the _Pearl_ around the world for our honeymoon, then we're going to settle in Ireland, and retire the ship. Right?"

He paused. "Well, actually Lizzie, I had me an idea."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell." Her tone suggested that if he ever wanted to have children—or stand upright past today—that his idea had better be good.

"I think that if we go to Ireland, we could simply use the _Pearl_ for our home," Jack said, gesticulating grandly. "That way, if we want, we can go sailing whenever we want."

"I'd rather that the rocking stay to the crib while the children are growing up."

"Oh, come on, luv, it's not asking much; you know that with your love of the sea and mine combined, there's not a chance that we'll keep them on dry land anyhow," Jack pointed out. "Besides..."

"You really, really, really, _really_ don't want to give up the _Pearl_?" Elizabeth said with a smile on her face.

He grinned back. "How well you know me, luv."

"I suppose," Elizabeth agreed, "if we could anchor her in some small inlet somewhere, that'd be all right, but she's not a shallow water ship, Jack."

"Ah," he pointed with his finger in a typical Jack-like fashion. "Thankfully, I have just the solution; we find said inlet, and raise the water level to accommodate our home," he said in a grand voice, complete with gestures to illustrate his point of 'raising the water level'.

She raised her other eyebrow. "Erm, Jack? I'd rather we didn't have to cheat and use the magic tricks."

He waved it away like a pesky fly. "It's not 'cheating', luv; it's 'using resources that are available to you', savvy?"

She groaned. "I'll never hear the end of this, will I?"

"It's not very likely, luv," Jack confirmed.

"Oh, very well," Elizabeth sighed, "we'll live onboard the ship."

The victory dance that Jack proceeded to do would have, on any other day, earned him a sharp jab in the rump with her swords. Today, though, she simply shook her head, and looked out to the sea that she resigned herself to the fact that she'd be living on forever.

Then, she heard scraping rock. She turned out towards the altar to look, and there was five people, dressed in dark sailing clothes. All wore swords. All had guns drawn.

All five were people she knew.

Before she could make a sound, the five pistols all fired off. In a flash, the reverend, Giselle, Scarlett, Pintel and Ragetti were all on the ground, dead as a doorknob.

Then, before she could draw the sword at her belt, she felt a boot kick her hand away. Then hands grabbed her and threw her to the ground, where she was kicked by two men, while a woman held Jack back, and she saw Sao-Feng walk up to Jack, and without a word, stab him through the torso.

The pain in her bruised and battered chest forgotten, Elizabeth screamed.

* * *

-KW-

* * *

Elizabeth sat bolt upright in bed, screaming.

She gasped for breath as she spun around. She was in her cabin. No treacherous Sao-Feng, no murderous AnaMaria, no heartless James Norrington, no virulent Barbossa, no vengeful Will.

No Jack.

She fell back to the bed, crying without control.

Her strength was sapped by the wretched nightmare. She cried and cried as she battled with herself inside. Part of her desperately just wanted to end it now, and go and be with Jack, wherever he was now. Another part thirsted for vengeance, to get back at the last three people for what they'd done to her. And there was a third, much stronger part, that just wanted to go back to Okinawa and sip tea and fight and laugh and be with Kira for the rest of her days.

So, she forced out a compromise within herself. She'd continue on her quest for revenge. If she were to die while doing it, she'd go and be with Jack at last. If she lived, she'd give the _Pearl_ to Gibbs and live in Okinawa.

Left with no fight in her, she began to fall into sleep, but not before realizing something about her final plans.

In them, she had already decided what the strange emotions meant, and what she would do about them.

* * *

Author's Note: There will be an epilogue, so PLEASE don't believe the 'LAST CHAPTER' bit when I get there, alright?


	10. Chapter Eight: A Lonely Grave

Chapter Eight:

The Lonely Grave of the Unknown Sailor

* * *

The _Black Pearl_ rested in the deep water just off the Isla Cruces. Elizabeth was climbing down the side into a rowboat, saying to Gibbs, "Give me four hours. If I haven't signalled you by then, come after me."

"Cap'n," he leaned over the side a bit more, "what'll yer signal be?"

She just sent him a toothy grin. "You'll know it when you see it."

Gibbs didn't like that sound of that, but said nothing as Elizabeth rowed off to take down Hector Barbossa.

* * *

-KW-

* * *

The dark figure stealthily moved from gravestone to gravestone, sneaking up to the restored chapel of Isla Cruces. Her _katana_ was in her hand, flashing in the dusk sunlight. She came up to the door, and peered through the few holes still in it. Then, seeing no-one, she kicked open the door, brought her sword to the ready—

And had it kicked out of her hand by a black boot. The sword flew off and embedded itself in the wall. She spun to look at Hector Barbossa, who stood there, lowering his leg. She stood in her jujitsu stance, ready for an attack.

That didn't come. He smiled wanly, saying, "Hello, Miss Swann. Please, sit down." He moved towards the table that was right there, and sat down to the two cups of wine.

Uneasy, she continued to stand. "What trick is this, Barbossa?"

He shook his head. "No trick. I merely believe that we are both civilized enough to have a bit of wine together. Are we not?"

She stared, incredulous. "You know what I'm here for?"

He nodded.

"And yet you still sit here, asking me to have a drink with you?"

He sighed. "Please, sit." She did so. "I understand your anger with me. And honestly, I deserve it. I did a terrible thing to you."

"You murdered my friends and killed..."

"I know, my dear; I was there, remember?" His smile did not even begin to reach his eyes. "And I tell you with no subterfuge that there is nothing more in this world that I regret doing than what I did there, that day."

She stared. "What?"

He looked at her after setting down his wine. "I'm saying I'm sorry, Miss Swann." He looked at her wine. "That isn't poisoned, you know. I have no interest in killing you."

She could see that if he had wanted to, she'd be long dead, so she drank hesitantly. It was good wine.

"If you regret it so..."

"I do. I didn't like Jack, and I still don't, but he owed me nothing, and you had done nothing to me at all. I had no right to murder your friends, attack your husband, or stand there and watch them try to kill you," he told her.

"I did notice that," she recalled. "You never did anything other than shoot the reverend."

"And that was because the slimy bastard welched on a debt he owed me, if you'll pardon the indignity done to the Welsh by that statement. And, as you can see," he gestured around the church, "I have since been making my penance for the sin."

"A fine job of it, too," she praised.

"Thank you," Barbossa nodded.

She couldn't help but ask, "You know why I am here. You won't run. You won't fight. You know I'm going to kill you. Why...?"

This time, the smile did reach his eyes, however wanly. "Well, you see, I have only one request. There's a grave right outside this church. I'd like to be buried in it, with no tombstone bearing my name; just put me in the ground, and let me rest. Will you do that for me once my life is ended?"

"I can do that for you," Elizabeth conceded.

"Thank you. Now," he straightened in his seat, his wine finished, "You are only right on three of four counts." He held up four fingers. "Whoops, too much wine," and, glaring at the fourth, it went back down. "First, I know why you're here; you're here to get your revenge." He ticked the third finger down. "Second, I won't run, because that's cowardly, and of the few things I pride myself on, not being a coward is one of them." Down went the second finger. There was only one left. "And third, I won't fight; it would be futile, if it is true that Ashido Yukira herself trained you." Then his hand went to his belt. "But you are wrong on the fourth; you won't be killing me." Then his hand came up.

He held a pistol, aimed dead on. He fired.

And blew a hole clean through his heart.

Shocked, she stared at the man who had brought her new world crashing down around her. He had killed himself. Rather than let her kill him for what he'd done, he had committed suicide. Well, it had been his choice, and she would not try to take it away from him.

She rose, took two steps towards the door, and stopped. She turned, and looked at the dead man lying on the floor. He'd done a good thing for her, she conceded, in telling her he was genuinely sorry, so she would acquiesce to his final wish.

* * *

-KW-

* * *

As she patted the dirt down on the grave, she looked at the headstone she'd carved. As per his request, the headstone did not bear his name. It did, however, read _The Unknown Sailor; Rest in Peace, Men of the Sea._ It would fit him, and all men who were lost to the sea.

She gently leaned the shovel against the headstone, believing that the man beneath her did not deserve his death. But he had quite literally brought it on himself; it had been his decision, not hers. And she admired the old man for it.

She would let him lie in peace.

She turned and began to go back towards the ship.

And was stopped cold in her tracks by the man who stood before her.

He was dressed in rugged garb that may have at one point been a Royal Navy uniform. The full moon in the night sky above cast an eerily familiar skeletal look to his harsh features. The scabbard at his belt was empty, and his hand held a sword that was far too fine for a man of his station in life. His hair was long, tied back in a messy ponytail. His face was scarred and bearded. Yet Elizabeth still recognized him.

"Why, hello, Miss Swann," said James Norrington.

* * *

Author's Note: Next chapter--gore time. If you're under fourteen...you probably watch that '24' show anyway, so you won't be scarred for life...further...


	11. Chapter Nine: James and I

Chapter Nine:

James and I

* * *

"Surprised to see me?" 

Elizabeth had to confess that she was. She had expected to have to return to Tortuga, and then search from there until she found him. She did not, of all things, expect him to come to her, especially not on this island.

"Well," Norrington began, "when Mister Tuner informed me you were still alive, I felt compelled to try and seek you out."

"Wanted to finish the job, James?" She asked curtly. He had been by far the most brutal and merciless of her attackers. He'd been the one to smash her nose and stab her in the leg, almost choke her to death, and snap both arms. Evidently, the whole 'lost-her-to-a-pirate' thing had driven him farther over the edge than she could have believed. In truth, it was really all his work that had brought her to the brink of death; the only truly harmful thing Will had done to her, apart from organize the whole scheme, was to cut her artery.

"Oh, yes," he agreed with a chillingly masochistic grin. "I knew you'd seek out Barbossa, so I waited here, while the old fool simply sat there and waited to die. And now here I stand, ready and willing and about to end your life...again," he smirked evilly.

She spat. "You botched it last time. What makes you think you can do it this time?"

His answering chuckle was bone chilling. "Oh, because you'll never be able to stop me." His clipped, precise English combined with the sheer malice in his voice was absolutely mortifying. Then he leapt at her, sword glinting in the pale moonlight as he swung downward in rage.

She spun, _katana_ out, and slashed.

He cried out, and landed in a sloppy roll. He brought a hand to his face, wiping the blood away from the vicious gash running from his ear down to the bottom of his jaw. "That was...unexpected."

She smiled wanly at her would-be murderer. "You'll find I'm full of surprises." She resumed her stance, _katana_ at the ready, held in a two-handed grip.

Smiling, realizing that this would actually be a challenge, he came at her.

She blocked his attack, amazed at how quickly his weapon moved. She back-pedalled rapidly, stepping up the front steps, and re-entering the chapel. He was right on her heels, blade singing as he flashed through dizzying attacks that she would have been insane to try and assault herself.

He flicked a glance over to the table, noting the pool of blood from Barbossa. "Stab him over dinner, did you?" He clicked his tongue. "Harsh, even for you."

"Hardly," she said with a hard edge to her voice as he moved back in to engage her, flashing towards her side. "He shot himself before I had the chance to do it. Not that _he_ deserved it," she added as she stepped over the blood, parrying an attack to her midsection.

James' face was one of amused disbelief. "He was as much a part of what he did as I was, and yet _he_ didn't deserve it?"

"Well," Elizabeth said casually, as if she were talking to him over dinner, rather than making a stab at his side, "he regretted doing it. _You_, on the other hand," she noted, "have no such moral affectations, it seems."

"They _do_ tend to get in the way of what I enjoy doing," he remarked smarmily as he leapt over her blade onto the altar, moving towards the staircase of the bell tower.

"Which is?" she asked, curious what this amoral creature did for a living.

"Carry out contracts of murder and torture, of course," he said with a cackle as she fled rapidly from a particularly nasty assault. "It's what I'm good at."

She shook her head with regret. "James, what's happened to you? You used to have morals, a good bead on things, a good head on your shoulders," _that I'm going to deprive you of it's the last thing I do_, she mentally added.

"_You_ happened to me, you wholesome _wretch_," he spat over their crossed blades. "You took my heart and scattered it to the four corners of the earth for a _blacksmith_, and then destroyed _that_ man's heart for a _pirate_. He was a lesser man than I, true enough, but..." he was cut off as she slapped him over the crossed swords. He staggered, stunned.

"Enough, you egotistic fool," she said contemptuously. "Even with what he's done, Will still is a better man than you've ever been or ever will be, you sanctimonious, dog-hearted cad."

His answering smile as he struck at her _katana_ was as chilling as it had been what seemed like hours before. "Shows how impaired your judge of character is, even though your choice in men already did."

Angered, she drove him up two flights of the stairs with rapid and passionate assaults that had him back-pedalling like a trapped rat. _Fitting, considering his smell,_ she thought snidely.

Then, with another cross-block of blades, Norrington cheated horribly. Under their blades, he kicked her in the solar plexus, making her instinctively bend over from the pain. For a topper, he took a step forward, and rammed the heel of his boot into her jaw. Stunned, she fell down the two flights of stairs and landed in an uncomfortable heap at the bottom.

Calling down maliciously, Norrington shouted, "I'll be at the top, if you can ever stand again." He cackled to himself as he jauntily climbed the stairs up to the bell itself. Reflecting, he did enjoy the murderous ways that his life was teaching him. It was infinitely more enjoyable than protecting his self-centred England with that self-flattering 'king and country' line.

He couldn't wait until the bitch got her strength back about her and charged up those stairs, he thought as he looked out at the field of tombs, trying to mentally pick out which one would be the best one for her. He desperately wanted to kick her back down them again, and that time he'd follow, and stab her clean through the heart, and enjoy the look of pain in those blue eyes until they clouded over. Yes, he loved being a sadistic bastard. He could not wait.

Literally; when he reached the bell chamber, she was already there, and delivered a harshly familiar blow to his jaw, sending him back down the flight he'd just climbed. Amazed, he sat up.

Elizabeth laughed with a ring of sadism in her own voice that made the professional killer's blood run cold. "You idiot. A girl has beaten me better than that." She delighted in his fear as she reminisced in the back of her head on how brilliant an idea it was to cut one of the ropes suspending the giant bell, and then ride the corresponding part of the rope up to the top. As she had risen, she'd given some serious consideration to stabbing Norrington in the back as he looked out the window, but thought better of it. She hoped he'd picked his grave out in that time.

As she moved to accommodate him in the small space, se also thanked Kira for her brutal, if efficient training; she was infinitely better in this environment than Norrington was, and it showed. He was barely able to keep her attacks at bay. One slash that came perilously close to his chest he could not have blocked, so he leapt out the window and onto the roof of the church. It was familiar footing from his battle with Sparrow and Turner, so he felt a bit more comfortable out there.

Her attacks were getting better now, though; she was leaping over his blade with ease, and attacking at will. He decided that this had to end, and soon. So when he held his blade out of place a moment too long, and she predictably kicked it out of his hands towards the ground below, he grabbed her hands, kept her _katana_ down, smashed her foot with his heel, delivered a knee to her already sore stomach, and punched her in the face _hard_.

She fell off the edge of the roof, straight down the seven-metre drop to land hard on her back. She could feel the ribs snap painfully inside her chest, making catching her breath intensely difficult to do. She saw the glint of something, maybe a weapon just a metre away. She slowly crawled to it, not hearing the thud of someone landing behind her, nor the footfalls on the dirt.

She _did_ hear—and feel—the boot impact the back of her knee with a _snap_, dropping her leg from under her. She started to crawl with her hands. It was not a moment later that the boot came down to smash her left hand. As she screamed, she felt the fragile bones in her hand snap agonisingly. Hearing a terrifying chuckle, she felt the other boot slide under her gut on her right side, and rudely flip her over.

She was staring up into the cold, evil eyes of James Norrington. He held her samurai blade in his hands, interestedly observing the steel. "This is a beautiful sword. It seems only fitting that it be the end of a once-beautiful woman." He bent a little closer to her, and coldly flicked the blade thrice, creating two shallow, stinging gashes in her cheeks haphazardly angled, and one angular cut on her forehead, running from the side of her temple to her hairline.

It was just one more insult to add to her already painful injuries.

He straightened up, and spun the handle of the _katana_ around to have the blade facing straight down, towards her chest. He arched his back, ready to drive the steel straight through his former fiancée.

_I'm sorry, Jack; I tried._

Then a spurt of blood squirted out of Norrington's side, and he grunted. A split second later, the bang of a pistol sounded off.

In a flash of inspiration, she reached out with her right hand, grabbed the handle of Norrington's sword, swung it into position and, without hesitation, she lunged upward.

The blade made a sickly satisfying sound as it drove true to her aim, stabbing clean through his stomach and spine to come out his back. He gurgled, surprised.

Then she twisted the blade, causing a lot more pain to her enemy, and, with her good foot, kicked with all her might, smashing her foot into Norrington's centre of gravity at the joining of his legs.

Shrieking in pain, he flew into the air, and descended backwards into an open grave. A moment after he vanished from sight, she heard a sickening _crack_. By the sound of it, he'd landed the wrong way, and broken his back.

_Good_.

Looking over, she saw Gibbs and the rest of her crew charging up the hill. She remembered; she'd forgotten to send a signal to the ship. _Thank God I didn't_.

Slowly, very slowly, she straightened up, painfully standing on her aching knee. She looked down into the grave to see the writhing, tortured figure of James Norrington. Gibbs joined her at her side, and asked, "Shall I get him out?"

In a burst of cold hatred, she answered. "Leave him." She turned and began to limp away, saying, "Have some of the men fill in the grave."

Gibbs was dumbfounded. Never once had he heard such cruelty or hatred come from Elizabeth. "But, Miss Elizabeth, he's still alive."

"That's the idea," came the curt response.

"_What?!_" He was shocked beyond sensibility.

The limping woman wheeled, and he felt the full force of her rage hit him from her gaze. He could see in her eyes that her humanity, along with the rest of her, had taken a beating today. This fight had made up for all of the other three relatively easy murders she had committed, and it had affected her deeply.

"Do not question, just _do_ it, _Joshamee_." And she wheeled around, and staggered off towards her boat. As she did, she heard Norrington's cries of pain die out suddenly. It brought her no joy, however; one thought and one thought only radiated through her mind.

_One left_.

* * *

Author's Note: One person, two chapters. Stick around. And in response to one particular review...I can see this happening because I have eyes in my head; I see that Elizabeth has something for Jack, and that will figure majorly into the third film. I assume that something comes of it. Being thrown away for another man twice would most likely be enough to drive William Turner off the edge. And, in enlisting four other people wronged by Jack or Elizabeth, he destroys any chacne of a future that they could have had. That, I think, is more than enough incentive to wish someone dead. Point made? 


	12. Last Chapter: Face to Face

Last Chapter:

Face to Face

* * *

It took two whole months for Elizabeth to recover fully from her ordeal at the hands of the former Admiral Norrington. She had to focus all her energies towards repairing the extensive damage done to her body and to her soul. Even with the accelerated healing that being Captain of the _Black Pearl_ granted, the bruises and scars were still bad enough to warrant a whole two months' work.

She also spent a lot of time entering confrontations with her inner demons. Was it really moral to do what she was doing? She had killed more than sixty people, one indirectly, and was sailing forth to kill one more, all in the name of a lover that was dead.

Was it worth her soul?

More and more, it seemed to her that it would be so much more worth it to return to Okinawa and stay with Kira. She smiled softly through her gloom at her memories of her close friend. The closeness and care she offered had come at just the right time in her life, and she was intensely grateful for it.

She knew now that she did feel something that was at the very least a strong sisterly affection for Kira, after all. And as much as the idea should have disturbed her, it didn't. All that she needed were the memories of her smile, the fragile yet dangerous face, and of those warm, soft arms around her, and all doubts were driven away.

And even with all the hatred within her, with all the horrible things he'd done to her, even with the Hell she'd gone through because of him…could she still find it in herself, in that one defining moment, to murder Will?

From her bunk on the _Pearl_, she cast a glance towards the 'Kill List Five' on the wall with four names crossed off. The only one left, the last one of them all, the chief offender, still lived.

And, as each time before, when she looked at that name, she felt the painful touch of the cold steel dragging across her neck.

And because of that, she came out deciding to herself _I am gonna Kill Will.

* * *

_

-KW-

* * *

In the end, they discovered that the reason they had had so much difficulty in locating where Will was hiding out now was simply because Will Turner no longer lived on land at all. He sailed around the Caribbean in a small yet comfortably built ship that was much larger than Ana's old _Jolly Mon_, yet smaller than the _Interceptor_ of old; formidable, yet small enough for a single man to crew.

She had to admit, it did sound like Will. As the _Pearl_ floated in the Tortuga harbour, the smaller ship just a few kilometres away, close enough to see it in the dense fog, she peered through her scope to examine the deck of the ship to familiarize herself with it before attempting boarding. She was grateful for whatever mystical deity, be it god or Neptune or whoever, that decided to bring him into port at the same tie as them.

"I don't like the look of it, Miss Elizabeth," Gibbs said. "This is far too easy."

"How so?" She asked without looking at him, still peering through the looking glass.

"On deck, y'see? There's no weapons, no food, no kegs of rum, no people, nothing at all," he elaborated. "It's not right. It's too easy. And," he added, "this unnatural fog is setting off my 'I-have-a-bad-feeling-about-this' sense." Rather than scoff at it, as many of his captains had, Elizabeth stocked a lot of faith in his feelings about things such as this. She still had yet to regret it.

"Well, no matter; I'm going aboard. Alone," she added as she snapped the scope closed.

"But, Miss Elizabeth…"

"Yes?" She looked at him.

He hesitated a moment longer, and then asked, "What if the worst should happen?"

She gazed back out to the ship, the home of her enemy, the only thing standing between her and the place she wanted to call 'home'. From somewhere within her, the words came: "Keep to the Code."

Gibbs merely nodded in understanding. "Aye, Captain Swann."

* * *

-KW-

* * *

There was no full moon tonight. The fog surrounding the place made visibility low. There were low clouds overhead, so no starlight came through.

Elizabeth could not have asked for more.

As she rowed her longboat towards the side of the ship—the _Bootstrap_, she could see from this close—she worried for not the first time about what she would see and do once aboard. Then the more steely side of her came out, and she took a hand, and patted the handle of her _katana_ lovingly. She would do what must be done, nothing more.

At the side, she picked up her specially-made boarder's anchor; a horrifically spiked harpoon tied with a rope to the boat. With proper exertion, she rammed the harpoon straight into the side of the ship, and then pushed off the side.

The raft went nowhere.

Pleased with Kira's design, she climbed the small side of the _Bootstrap_ up to its deck. In the back of her head, she noted that from here, it rather was built like a small boot; it was mostly flat, save for the last four metres or so, where the deck rose up to hold the Captain's Cabin and the rudder control above. There was no mast, she saw, and the reason for that was rather ingenious; with a few pulleys near the wheel, he could simply pull sails up in a shell-like fashion around the front of the ship, and move forward at a comfortable speed with an unimpeded view. She also noted the four cannon that were on each side of the ship, above and below decks; from what she surmised, the lower deck consisted of the other eight guns, the necessary supplies for such weaponry, and enough food and water—or rum, she supposed—to last for a while.

She kicked open the cabin door, and warily looked around.

No one.

She walked about the small cabin. As she did, she admired the collection of swords decorating the walls. They were all sabres and cutlasses, blades obviously of his design, yet with strange twists on them that made them unusual, probably difficult for anyone else to use.

Impressed, she turned, and sealed the doors again. Then she rapidly moved over to a chair that was positioned by the windows, yet not visible from anyone coming straight in the door.

So, she glanced over to his desk, and, seeing no papers on it, put her feet up.

And she waited.

* * *

-KW-

* * *

Will pushed and shoved, struggling with all his might. The damned creature was going to beat him, he was sure of it. Suddenly, a wave of determination overcame him, and he swore to himself that he could not and would not let the monster win against him. So he fought and shoved and kicked and yelled with all of his might, and finally, he won.

The stubborn cow was aboard.

It was much more effort than he had wanted to put into it, but it would be worth it when it was four weeks out at sea and he wanted fresh meat instead of salty, preserved meat, or too-old fruit.

He swiftly grabbed the end of his ponytail, now long enough to reach the middle of his back, and held it up while he shoved his head into the refreshingly cold Caribbean water. He smiled as he pulled himself out of the water, feeling more refreshed from that. He swung the long hair back over his shoulder, and entered his cosy cabin.

He took three steps before he heard from behind him a voice he'd hoped never to hear again.

"Hello, Will," said Elizabeth.

He wheeled around, pistol in his hand. He fired without hesitation, and with dead-on aim. The pistol smoked as the lead left it at speeds too fast for him to see, and embedded itself under her black cloak.

Yet she seemed unaffected. In fact, she was smiling as she rose from her position of rest in his chair—his chair!

Panicking, he moved to the desk, and quickly whipped out another pistol, and shot again, aiming for her torso. He heard the shot go off, saw the smoke, all the signs that it had fired correctly, so nothing was wrong with his guns.

The problem was that Elizabeth wasn't affected by them.

Real terror creeping into him now, he lunged towards the windowsill, pulling out the concealed double-barrel pistol there. He fired off both shots in quick succession. Neither succeeded where the others had failed.

What was happening to him?

* * *

-KW-

* * *

It was dramatic, she knew, but Elizabeth rather liked the effect her nonchalance with being shot repeatedly was having on poor Will. It was so simple, yet so utterly brilliant, she decided to see if she could tell him his mistake before he died.

She had very thoroughly inspected this room. She had found the first pistol, stashed in the bookshelf, all too easily. The same could be said for the one in the desk. The double-barrelled one had been tricky, though, to find; not only had Will crafted himself a fine weapon, he also hid it extremely well.

However, the lead rounds inside the pistols were not so easily hidden. They were, in fact, very easy to remove.

"Give up yet, Will?" She rose her hands, indicating she held nothing. "Can we talk, maybe?"

"About what?" He almost shrieked.

"Oh, I don't know," she said airily, "You pick a topic; old times, how you've been, how I've been, what we've done in the past two or so years, why you decided to kill me and my husband," saying the last with the same blasé approach as the others.

"Why talk, Elizabeth?" He stood, eyeing her suspiciously. "We both know that, inevitably, one of us is going to kill the other. Why talk?"

"Because even after all you did to me, you're still in some small corner of my heart, and I want to know why you did it." She tilted her head. "What was your motivation? Revenge? Jealousy? Anger?"

Sensing she wouldn't kill him—immediately, anyhow—he sat down. "None of those. Why I did what I did…" He sighed. "It was protection."

"Protection? From what?" She grew angered. "Protecting me from Jack? Is that what you think you—"

"Why does everything have to be about _you_, Elizabeth?" He asked bitterly. "I was protecting _Jack_ from _you_."

"_What_?!" He didn't need to have known her for years before now to know that she was furious.

"It was protection, and I'll tell you why. First of all, you have a nasty habit of picking men up, and then breaking their hearts. Particularly for someone whom they consider something of a lesser being, even if an equal in other ways."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He gestured. "Please, sit. It's obvious we're not going to kill each other right now, so we might as well be civilized." She did so. "First, you seemed to have a fancy for me. Then, you hurt me very deeply by going to James Norrington, who I considered a square and an ice block incapable of human emotion. Then, you broke his heart by going back to me, a blacksmith with no stature or anything of value to offer his dearly beloved. He eventually got over it, but the wound stayed on his heart. Then, after coming this close," he held up his forefinger and thumb very close together, "to marrying me, you threw yourself at Jack Sparrow, a man who was a pirate, and a pompous ass of a pirate at that, with no morals or any concern for you, merely for what pleasures you might be able to offer him. Then, as was inevitable with you, he actually began to feel something for you. And then he asked you to marry him. Your third fiancée, and he hadn't learned anything from the first two. I felt I owed Jack something, and I couldn't bear the idea of the heartbreak you put me and James through being thrown on Jack. So I saved him from his misery."

"By stabbing him through the heart?" Elizabeth said, incredulous.

"I also didn't especially like him for stealing my future wife away," Will added.

She shook her head. "We're done here."

"Yes, we are." Then he shoved off from the desk, and his chair shot back towards the rack of swords. He rose, pulling a sword from within his desk out to guard stance. She recognised the design; it was a very thin, yet versatile and durable piece of incredibly sharp steel, attached to a pommel that had silver hoops looping artfully around the wielder's hand in a much more intricate and artful guard than the usual cutlass had. It was a French rapier, the sword wielded by the King's Musketeers.

This would be interesting.

She rose from her chair gracefully, as if she were merely being dismissed from a dinner. Her hand went to her belt with equal casualness, grasping the handle of her _katana_, pulling it free slowly to allow her opponent to admire the sword's beauty and inherent danger. "You and I have unfinished business."

He levelled the rapier. "So we do."

Then they began.

He leapt over her blade to land on the desk, and quickly leapt from there out the door. She spun around and followed, _katana_ at the ready. She swung up at his rapier, deciding to try and cut this fight short by cutting his sword short. Unfortunately, the French blade just bent with the blow. Her eyes broadened in surprise.

He smiled. "French steel; flexible, yet extremely strong." Then he rolled and attacked at her flank, driving her back. She back-pedalled rapidly, climbing up the ladder to the top of the _Bootstrap_, continuing to retreat as they moved to the wheel. Then she leapt over it in a spinning jump that looked very impressive to Will, and she leapt clean off the side onto the dock. Intent on victory, he followed.

The moment he landed, he was off balance. She took that advantage, and pressed it. She drove him up, off the docks, and onto the well-beaten paths littered with drunk and despondent characters that led the way into Tortuga. He stumbled backward and fell over a sleeping drunk, who sat up in confusion. Elizabeth gave him an irritated thwack on the head with the _katana_ pommel. The drunk fell back over, asleep again. She leapt over the drunk and caught up to Will, who was no longer off balance.

He led her through a difficult ring of motions, parries, assaults, and feints that led them through the crowded, rowdy streets of Tortuga, and into the pub.

The brawl continued on around them, totally oblivious to the two people fighting each other to the death with strange swords. However, they were forced to be aware of the brawl, watching for spinning drunks that would impede their opponent's progress, or angry seamen that would attack their opponent should he misstep and interrupt their drinks.

Elizabeth ducked under a knife whipped across the room, and saw that it was meant to hit a man that was passionately snogging a girl's brains out in the small of the back…twelve feet away from Elizabeth. She shook her head, thinking that drunks shouldn't throw knives.

Then the drunk threw another knife, and it embedded itself in the side of Will's knee.

She decided that maybe she needed to reconsider her opinion on knife-wielding drunks.

Grimacing, Will ripped the knife out of his knee, and was just in time to use it to make a badly disproportionate 'x' guard against Elizabeth's _katana_, streaking down at him. Then, he shoved with the 'x', forcing her into the thick of the brawl. He then threw the knife, and this time, it did hit its intended target.

The womaniser fell over, groaning in pain.

The drunk waved to him in thanks as he moved in on the recently-single woman, and Elizabeth noticed. As she followed Will closely up the stairs, never once relenting in her attacks, she asked, "Still doing the good deeds, Will?"

He smiled down at her. Then, there was a loud scream, followed by a resounding clang.

They both looked to see the drunk, lying on the floor, and the woman holding a hot frying pan in her hand.

"Then again, maybe not," he muttered.

And then they were back into their duel of fates. She drove him backwards, remembering the layout of the building in the back of her head as she halted to allow a group of men pitch another man—who was, curiously, half-dressed—down into the brawl. She saw another brawler randomly swing and deliver a solid blow to Will's jaw, which sent him flying into the railing. Unhesitant, she swung with all her force into Will.

He barely rolled down the banister in time to have her slice through the wood instead of his skull.

As he rose to attack, he spared a glance down at the pit, and froze, staring in wonder. Deciding that he wasn't the type to cheat in a fight, Elizabeth looked, too. What they saw tied up most of the loose strings of the odd little drama they had been immersed in; the half-clothed man was kissing the woman below, who had dropped the frying pan and was kissing him back voraciously. The lack of pants was explained by the crying woman who was wearing the missing pants—and scarce else—behind them who ran at the railing, obviously intent on hitting it with dramatic poseur, and breaking up the happy reunion below. However, it seemed fate had smiled on the couple below; Elizabeth's blow had sliced clean through the area the woman tried to throw herself on. She fell straight down behind the bar, and vanished from sight. The former lovers on the balcony exchanged a look, and a mutual shrug of 'it's Tortuga'. Then they went on their merry way.

She forced him back out onto the upper story porch that overlooked the street. Smiling, she drove the unsuspecting Will back almost flush to it, and then, used the trick James had taught her, and kicked Will square in the stomach under their crossed blades.

He fell straight down, and after taking two steps backwards, she launched herself after him, landing in a roll. She sprang up to deflect his waiting blade. Apparently, he had expected the fall.

He fled the other way, straight into another building. She leapt ahead of him, atop the stairs, ignoring the family's protests. He began to duel her, driving her upwards. Then, deciding to play dirty, she kicked his other, uninjured knee. It snapped backwards with a rather nasty sounding 'crack'. He staggered, but kept moving forward.

He'd die if he didn't.

He drove her upwards, forcing her to go out on their little porch, too. Deciding to take this fight elsewhere, she demonstrated one of her more favourite tricks, and leapt onto his rapier's thin blade. It was a tricky landing, but she pulled it off. She even remembered the 'flexible, yet strong' line, and let her momentum force the blade down, inevitably forcing it to bend back up, propelling her onto the roof. Will scrambled to follow, hooking a hand onto the ledge above, and then crawling over the little wall encircling the roof.

Her front was parallel to the line of the roof, and he was standing with the back of his heels against the raised edge of the roof, the top of it impacting just below his knees. He was a few feet to her right as he swung and she blocked, the two of them staring at one another over their mismatched blades. Then, inspiration struck Elizabeth. It was risky, it was daring, but it just might work…

With inhuman speed, her let hand removed itself from the pommel of her _katana_ and, while reaching over her right arm, gripped his wrists with a vicelike grip that he could not have escaped. She then swung her sword, free to move away from blocking Will's trapped sword, counter-clockwise in a grand arc at a high speed.

And she cut off both hands at the wrist.

As her grip forced the freed appendages into the air, he fell to his bruised and smashed knees in agony. The sword fell from his disembodied hands' grip, and landed neatly in her outreaching left.

Coldly staring down at her nemesis, she crossed _katana_ and rapier at his neck, the ends of both blades resting on his shoulders. He was kneeling despite the pain, and staring into her hardened, cold, dead eyes, he saw his death.

"Pay attention, Will," she said acerbically. "_This_ is how it is done." And with that, she let go of two years' hate, anger, rage, love, and sorrow, and swung both arms outward, hands flicking straight into alignment with her wrists, moving the blades like a pair of scissors.

Snip.

And William Turner's head fell to the street below as his shattered body fell, exhaling its last breath in a slow sigh as it went, leaving only Captain Elizabeth Swann, mismatched foreign blades held high in the air, bloodstained and battered, bruised and tired, exhausted…and finished.

She was finally free.

* * *

Author's Note: Please, please, PLEASE stick around for the Epilogue. It took me forever to word it right, and I really don't think that this 'Last Chapter' quite ends things right.


	13. Epilogue: A Small Measure of Peace

Epilogue:

A Small Measure of Peace

* * *

"You're sure of this, Miss Elizabeth?" Gibbs asked for what she was certain was the five-hundred-twenty-seventh time. In fact, she was so sure of this, she expressed that number to him, to which he responded, very disgruntled, "It's only been _forty-five_ times, Cap'n. But you _are_ sure of this, then?"

She nodded as the two of them stood on the dock beside the _Black Pearl_. Her clothes fluttered in the gentle breeze, which waved her hair about. She fingered the hilts of the rapier and _katana_ in her belt, gazing over the large ship that she had come to call home for what she was fairly certain to be the last time. "Joshamee, I've never been surer of anything in my life."

He nodded, in understanding. "Well, Sao-Feng's armada is looking for a new leader. You know where we'll be. You ever want to say hello, need our services, come calling. We'll be there."

She smiled at the old sailor's loyalty. "Thank you, Gibbs." She clapped his shoulder, and handed him Jack's compass.

"Miss Elizabeth, no…"

"Please, it should stay with the _Pearl_ and her Captain," she told him. "Besides," she added, staring up into the hills, "I already know the bearing of what I want most in this world."

He nodded. "As you wish, Miss Elizabeth." He swept off his hat in a practiced gesture that she was sure he'd learned from Jack, saying, "_Au revoir_." And as he returned to the _Pearl_, she strode up the long dirt path, never looking back once.

She walked up the long path, rising over the grassy hills, and back down into one of the valleys. And then she did turn back to look, for she knew that she wouldn't see the _Pearl_. And, strangely enough, she did not miss it. Then again, perhaps it wasn't so strange, she mused. There were so many bad memories, so many hard experiences, so many rough times, and so few happy memories. That was what made the real difference between where she went, and the place she left behind. _Well, that and one other thing…_

She smiled to herself as she walked the dirt trail, she took in every last bit of her surroundings, that which she would live on for the rest of her life. She couldn't think of anywhere else in the world she'd rather be._ It's all I could ask for in this world; just some small measure of peace._ After the long walk down the warmly familiar path, she came back to the dwelling that she had come to love. _Talking of which…_

She paused at the door, debating for the longest time what to say. Finally, she decided to wing it, and pushed open the door. Mindful to take off her boots, she stepped through the room and found Kira deep in meditation. It took everything in her to not simply drop all pretence and run to her, but she held out, knowing that this would make her return that much better.

Mindful of the floor's creaks and other giveaways, she snuck up very close to the girl she'd missed so much. She silently set herself down on her knees, directly in front of her, their faces barely ten centimetres apart. As she watched the girl meditate, she drank in the features that were so familiar, the sheer presence of her that warmed her soul.

Then she opened her eyes, her meditation halted. Her eyes widened.

Elizabeth smiled. "Kira…I'm home."

* * *

Author's Afterword: I don't really know or care if anyone else likes how I end it, because I do. So I'm a closet romanticist; sue me. Anyone catch the 'Last Samurai' reference? If so, let me know, would you? I always like to know that the little nods and homages to other films and books I slip into everything I write are recognised for what they are.


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